


Burn it to the Ground

by Roehrborn



Series: Canon Compliant Nygmobblepot [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: 3x21, 3x22, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Hate, Love, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 16:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11130105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roehrborn/pseuds/Roehrborn
Summary: “Make this city yours.  Or you burn it to the ground.”Oswald starts with Ed.





	Burn it to the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: “Requiem for Fish”.
> 
>  **Yet another one of Oswald’s parental figures dies in his arms.** Can’t my adorable narcissistic murderous son get a break??? (Also Fish was literally my 3rd favorite character I’m crying.) I’m so pissed at Jim rn.

Fish dies in his arms.

Oswald’s sorrow turns to rage in a heartbeat, and he throws himself at Jim Gordon, that self-righteous man who has been a thorn in his side since the second after he spared Oswald’s life, all those years ago. But Jim is infected and grabs him by the throat with superhuman strength, and before too long Oswald finds him back in the holding cells at the police station, heart heavy and dull in his chest.

It’s a different pain than what he’d felt at Ed’s betrayal. That had felt sharp, sudden, like a rattlesnake bite. This feels more familiar: persistent, dull, burning pain in his heart. It’s the way he felt after his mother died bleeding in his arms, and his father, choking on poison.

Both times, a thirst for revenge brought him out of his agonized stupor. But he knows better than to think he can get away with killing Jim Gordon, especially now. The situation is _hopeless_. He stares down at his clenched fists, wondering stupidly when it had all gone wrong.

Then he hears a familiar voice, burning with rage and something almost like affection:

_Make this city yours. Or you burn it to the ground._

He raises his head, defiantly.

He can’t give up.

Fish would never forgive him.

~

He hits Ed over the back of the head with a pipe and then stares down at the unconscious form, mind whirring.

How best to exact his revenge? Ed’s death alone isn’t enough. Not after all the torture he put Oswald through: dismantling his empire, psychologically manipulating him, _digging up his father’s body_. Ed deserves more than just a bullet to the head.

But he needs to get out of here first.

There’s a satisfaction to driving away in the police car; Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock had been willing to set him up as Gotham’s sacrificial lamb, and now they must pay the price. They will later learn to regret their actions, when he returns. Gotham will not thrive at the _cost_ of him; he will _make this city his_.

Or he will _burn it down_.

But first: Edward Nygma.

~

On the phone, Ivy’s voice goes wobbly when she hears him, worry and endearment sabotaging her speech. He’s glad he gave her the chance; she’s young still, and will probably grow less annoying as she ages. In the meantime, she asks for little more than the occasional bit of praise and affection, which he is more than capable of giving.

He doesn’t tell her about Fish. He’s not ready to talk about her, yet; but he will someday.

Ivy will learn from his and Fish’s relationship -- learn that she can trust Oswald when she can trust no other. Because he’s going to raise her up to be like him, just as Fish had done with him, when he was nothing more than an umbrella boy.

_Make it yours._

He failed to do that with Ed; he should have molded him to be like Oswald, instead of the other way around. But perhaps he never could have done it; perhaps Ed was too fully formed, his compulsions already developed, his predisposition to romantic idiocy established.

_Or you burn it to the ground._

It’s pathetic, really. All that Ed gave up, for the sake of a _librarian_.

It’s far too late for what-ifs now, though. Oswald’s decision was made the moment Ed threw him off those docks. It’s taken some time, but the plan is in motion now. Not too much longer, and it will be complete.

~

Ed’s shoulders are shifting and Oswald _knows_ he’s found the tie pin.

Part of him is disappointed in Ed; or perhaps disappointed in himself. Ed should know better, by now: should know how manipulative and dangerous Oswald is. He _had_ known who Oswald was, all those years ago; when he was recuperating in Ed’s squalid bachelor pad, Oswald had found the newspaper clippings, featuring all his most illustrious accomplishments.

Somewhere in all that time, he had lost his respect for Oswald.

When was it? Oswald wonders. Was it when he declared his love for Ed? Or even before that, when he’d invited Ed into the workings of his criminal empire and perhaps more importantly, into his life? Or not until he’d let Ed kill him, out on those docks, crying and hoping that the man he loved would extend a hand out to him?

Something has been made clear to Oswald in recent days: he never has gained respect, and he never will. (Gabe taught him that, and paid the price with his life.) Yet Oswald had ruled this city without that respect. He had always thought he needed it, but he was wrong.

Ed’s lack of respect will be his undoing; and it will be Oswald’s triumph. He’ll take “the Riddler” and rule this city and if he fails --

\-- he’ll _burn it all to the ground_.

~

He’s taken off guard that Edward manages to hit him with the car door, and his fall and momentary disorientation are not feigned.

When he pushes himself up onto his hands, his eyes meet Ed’s over the barrel of the gun and he throws himself into his role with gusto. Edward anticipates a tantrum, and a tantrum is what he’ll get.

There’s a sick satisfaction to giving Ed what he expects (what he _wants_ ) in the form of a childish screaming fit, and something even more gleefully vindictive at the knowledge that Ed is _falling_ for the act, totally and completely. He _is_ brilliant, Oswald won’t deny that, but he’s never known Oswald as well as he thought he had. He sees Oswald-in-Love as a separate entity to Oswald-the-Penguin, and he has yet to realize that, unlike him and his ridiculous “Riddler” persona, they are one and the same.

Oswald won’t deny he loves Ed. Of course he won’t, and never will. It’s true, after all; an irrevocable fact, as unchangeable as the sun in the sky. Oswald Cobblepot loves Edward Nygma, and will for all eternity, despite anything that passes between them.

But _that_ won’t stop him.

He’ll still make Ed _his_.

And if he fails, **_burn him_**.

~

He gazes out into the harbor. The wind is cold, coating his lips with damp, heavy air. He flicks his tongue out to taste it, just briefly.

He has no memory beyond the initial impact with the water; the last thing he remembers before waking in Ivy’s care was the tall and unforgiving silhouette of Edward Nygma, watching him sink. But he does remember the sour taste of river water on his lips, flooding his mouth and nose and the hole in his gut.

He has two chances left to make Ed his, now.

The first is shattered when Ed pulls the trigger again.

The quiet, unobtrusive click of the gun bewilders Ed, and Oswald watches with a quiet kind of solemnity as Ed fiddles with the gun, cocking it again and pulling the trigger on another empty chamber. Oswald slips his hand into his pocket and reveals to Ed what he’s done.

Ed’s face is angry and distraught, the picture of defeat. Oswald allows himself to feel sorrow, now, sorrow for what has been lost.

The freeze ray fires up and Ed tries to lunge forward, too late --

Oswald’s done it.

Ed’s _his_ now. Forever. Encased in ice.

~

In the quiet dark light of the mansion, Oswald eyes the new centerpiece of his club. Behind him, Ivy stands in quiet appreciation, hand on her hip.

 _I did it_ , he thinks, to himself or to Fish, he’s not certain. _I made him mine._

_Now for the city._


End file.
